The Daredevil eBook

from their presence quickly in the night and be lost
in the trenches of France before I am detained.
And if it be that I am not discovered before all is
made well concerning those mules for transportation
of food to the soldiers of France, then I will still
go away to the battlefields of France before it is
discovered by all who have given affection to Robert
Carruthers, that he is a—­lie. I will
leave love for me and for France in all of these kind
hearts, which will comfort me when I fight for the
Republique, or live for her during long years.
I grieve exceedingly; but I go!”

And after that long conference with myself I called
upon the telephone my Buzz and asked of him that he
meet me at the Club of Old Hickory, of which, after
the required time of waiting, I was soon to be an
enrolled member.

And when I told to my Mr. Bumble Bee the fact that
in the space of barely three days the great gentleman
of France would be in Hayesville for the purpose of
a visit and the signing of the contracts concerning
our much discussed friend, the mule, he gave a very
long and loud whistle and placed his elbows upon the
smoking table between us.

“Well, this does call for hustle,” he
said as he knocked from his cigarette the ashes.
“What are your plans, L’Aiglon?”

“I do not know what it is best to plan, my Buzz,”
I answered in perplexity. “Of course, there
must be the official reception by His Excellency,
the Gouverneur Faulkner, upon the evening of their
arrival, but more I cannot think. Also, I am commanded
by His Excellency to consult the beautiful Madam Whitworth
as the only official wife of the State, on account
of the title of Treasurer of her husband.”

“Oh, Mrs. Pat will be satisfied to shine at
the elbow of Governor Bill at the reception and we
can trust her to arrange little odd cosy hours for
herself and any of the bunch who pleases her.
It’s the man end of it we want to handle.”

“Yes, it is that man end you speak of I wish
you to perform for me, my Buzz,” I assented
eagerly.

“I’ll tell you what let’s do,”
exclaimed that Buzz with a very great light of enthusiasm
coming into his countenance. “Let’s
don’t try to imitate London, Paris or New York
in blowing ’em off; let’s give them a
taste of the genuine rural thing. Let’s
take the bunch down to the Brice stock farm, Glencove,
give ’em a barbecue done by old Cato and let
’em see the horses run. Gee, they have got
a string of youngsters there! It will take two
and a half days, for it’s fifty miles down over
a mighty poor road, but it’s worth it when you
get there. The Brice farm is the heart of the
Harpeth Valley. We took that English Lordkin,
who came to visit Governor Bill last year, down to
see old Brice, and it took us ten days to get him
to break away.”

“That we will do, my fine Mr. Bumble Bee,”
I answered with gratitude.

“Sure, it’s the thing,” said my
Buzz with conviction. “We pass right through
the grazing land of the State and we can show them
the mule in the making—­the right kind of
mule. We’d have to do that anyway, for
that is what they are here for.”